The games are just beginning
by finnickodairsunderwearxo
Summary: Okay so it's nothing major or serious I just started a little fan fiction that I thought could be fun to do. :) I know it's not perfect by ANY means, and it's very much still draft versions :) It's the 40th Hunger Games and it follows my character, Marina's story. Hope you enjoy. Please review (good or bad!) Also I am very much a newbie to this site so I have no idea what I'm doing
1. Chapter 1

From the point of the reaping up until now, I've had nothing else other than terror fill me. My body is restricted from anything but simple movements, my arms glued to my side, my feet walking mechanically forward when required. But that's the thing about these games, They consume you before you even take part. I tried to keep a lid on my fear, for my families sake, I didn't want them to think I was a lost cause before I even left the district. I sit formally in the carriage of the train, my legs folded and my hands poised politely on my lap. My district partner, Chaim, seemed to be doing as I was, speaking only when necessary, holding in his tears. He'd tried to make friendly chat towards me, but considering it was merely a couple of hours after being basically sentenced to death I wasn't up to it. I'd known him briefly back in life in District Four, knowing him on the boats to nod and say hello to, but we weren't exactly close so I don't see why he wishes to further that relationship now, It can only lead to bad things. Still, it's nicer than having someone menacing at my side, quashing any hope of returning from these cursed games. You see that's the thing with being a career, your peers are trained to kill, they're stronger than the rest of the tributes, and although district four was part of that alliance we were far less invested in the Capitol's bullshit, unlike Districts 1 and 2 that swallowed it up without question, for an easy life perhaps.

Chaim and I sit in silence until our two mentors come in, Mags, a woman in her early thirties with salt and peppered hair, she looked older than she was, due to the stress of being personally involved with at least one tribute who dies each year most likely, She had a warm face though, laughter lines carved into her face gave the impression she wasn't the stern killer that she used to be. Our other mentor, Gabe, was a man slightly younger than Mags, his hair was blonde, too blonde to be natural, he had most likely been altered by the Capitol. Poor thing. Mags is the one who speaks first. "So, I'm not going to waste time congratulating you, This isn't a blessing, but our aim is to get one of you out of here, to do this, you're going to have to pay serious attention to Gabe and I." She pauses, her eyes flitting over our faces as if to check we're taking what she's saying in, When she's greeted with silence she proceeds on. "Good. Now, As part of the career pack, you're going to have to be strong, You might have to pretend to be something your not, but to get yourself out of here. You may not like it, but a noble death is still a death." Her words hang in the air like a bad smell as Chaim and I accept that these games might not cost us our lives, but who we are. I suppress a strangled cry and force it down my throat in a lump, to look on edge is better than to seem like I had lost total control. There's a long, suffocating silence as Chaim and I try to divulge what our mentors have told us, before Mags' speaks again. "Gabe and I are going to discuss something in the next carriage, You can stay here or go to your rooms. Dinner will be laid out in about an hour." She says softly, her voice carrying comforting tones that could almost make you forget you were about to fight til the death, with that she nods and they both exit the carriage, leaving Chaim and I glued to our seats in silence.  
It's the first time I get a proper look at Chaim up close, I'd never really paid much attention to him before, Never had a reason to, but when I do now I see that his light green eyes are pale and have silver flecks around the iris, contrasting perfectly with the deep auburn shade of his thick hair. District characteristics dictate that we do look quite similar, but my eyes are a deeper hue of green, with golden brown flecks instead of the silver ones, and my hair is a darker brown, tumbling down my back in thick waves. "You think they'll be able to get us out of here?" He asks almost nervously, like he shouldn't be speaking to me.  
"One of us." I correct him, I don't see why he should be under some delusion that we could both survive. "And maybe. They've done it before, perhaps they'll do it again." I say flatly, my voice desperately trying to seem bored, like I'm not trying to coax my true self out after it was scared to it's wits. "You don't have to pretend around me. I know you're scared. I am too." he mumbles under his breath. This pulls me up short. How had he deciphered that I was trying to put on a front for him? I hadn't exactly given anything away. This was worrying, Chaim was smarter than I thought he was, the competition just got a lot tougher.


	2. Chapter 2

Platters of decadent delicacies load the tables in front of me, my eyes widen and my taste buds twitch at the prospect of so much food in one place, I hadn't seen this much food in a year, let alone one afternoon. Gabe and Mags were explaining something to us, rattling on about how we should consume as much food as possible to build our muscle further. Don't worry, I will. I think to myself as I tune them out and let my eyes greedily land over the many colourful dishes provided. It's the first time our Capitol escort, Saphira, has joined us since the reaping, She was probably tending to the perfectly primed blue wig she adorned along with her garish make up that made her look more like a clown, rather than the fashion icon look she was most likely striving for.  
"Tuck in you poor little things! You must be ravenous!" She exclaims excitedly, clasping her gloved hands together as she does so. In District Four, we weren't poor by any means, I would even say we didn't live in poverty like many of the other districts, we were lucky. We had the food we needed and were able to live from it, but still, this amount was more than any district citizen could hope to see in their lifetime. I laden my plate with a soft, creamy substance and some small vegetables and a strange purple meat on top and inhale the mouth-watering odor it gave off. I had been used to eating mainly fish and sea grown plants back home, so it was nice to try something new and flavoursome, Although Chaim stuck to eating some kind of fish platter which baffled me slightly. We're allowed to continue eating our food for approximately twenty minutes before the agonizing strategy meeting would begin.  
"So, obviously you'll be with the careers, so we don't need to worry about making alliances. But we do need to talk about the other tributes in your alliance." Gabe explains as he stabs a piece of meat with his fork and slobbers it into his mouth greedily, much to the distaste of Saphira. Mags' stands up and grabs some form of control panel, punching in a few buttons and the large flat screen across the carriage lights up. It's the coverage of the reapings.  
It doesn't take long to cease my appetite as we look upon our competition, our allies from District 1 don't fail to impress, the boy is large and slender with cold blue eyes that seem to suck the life out of everything around him, I catch his name as Mercury, his district partner, Aine, is said to be only 15 years old, but when she proudly steps up to volunteer, nobody questions it. I inhale deeply and hold in a breath, I'll have to be good to beat these guys.  
And then comes the second district in our alliance, The district two pair are both strapping eighteen year old volunteers, Petra, the female tribute has a build enviable of most males, bulging muscles protruding from her dainty reaping dress that looks completely mismatched, I hope hand to hand combat doesn't occur with her. The boy, Rex, is only slightly larger than Petra herself, his legs look like parts of a machine, powering towards the stage in a march of masculinity. Then it's on to the other districts whom will fear the very sight of me simply due to my district, Not all the tributes make an impression and I can see how hopeless the fight for some of them will be. There is something unnerving about the girl from three, Neave, though, Her eyes are miniature almond-shaped and dark, like looking into pits of the abyss, Although she was small, she appeared down right terrifying compared to her feeble district partner who faints as his name's called. Then it's us. Saphira calls my name, I step up, I don't look anywhere near as panic-stricken as I felt. Then Chaim's called and he receives several pats on the back on his way up, Did they really think that being reaped was a good thing? An honor? They must be downright delusional. The rest of the districts go by in a blur of tragedy and angst. The boy from district 10 sticks in my mind though, Quinn his name was, he looked much older than he no doubt was, with a faint line of stubble curling from ear to ear, and broad shoulders that seemed to widen his stature, still, the fear in his eyes was undeniable.  
Twenty three terror-stricken children, twenty-three people I will have to murder.


	3. Chapter 3

After watching the footage of the reapings we're dismissed to go and sleep, we probably wouldn't arrive in the Capitol for about five hours, and anything that needed discussing would be upon arrival, for now we should just sleep, and hope we'd be well rested before training begins.  
When I go to the bedroom carriage of the high tech train I flop on to the bed on my back, staring solemnly up to the ceiling, a blank canvas that allowed me to demonstrate my worries and sort them into an order before I allowed them to re-enter my head and cloud up my emotions. I wasn't a career, I was nothing of the sort, I struggled to kill the fish that fed us let alone real people, but I knew I would have to get over this fear if I had any hope of being kept in the career alliance, sometimes if there is a year with a weak career, they'll be shunned to make way for a more impressive tribute from an outer district, but this rarely happened. Chaim would get in...easily! He gave off the nice guy approach, but you could tell he was hiding something, the way his brows furrowed in concentration watching the reaping footage, the way his fingers clenched and un clenched in perfect synchronisation He was ready to fight. And he could. His build was impressive, A life time of the back busting work required out on the boats in Four meant he was at his physical peak and even the gigantic pair from two would be hard pressed to tow him down. I however, was not so impressive, Although I was physically fit, with enough muscle on me to cope, if I came into competition with one of the larger tributes I'd find myself in danger, Chaim could probably snap me in half without breaking a sweat. I try to banish these thoughts as I languidly lulled myself into a deep, undisturbed sleep.  
I turn across the bed, screwing up the covers in my fist up to my face as if to fend off the brutal reality that was my life now. Reluctantly I get up and fix my hair in preparation for the throng of Capitol photographers that desperately attempt to snap an image of Chaim and I. 'Hot of the press: Another set of children here for the slaughter! Yay!' Ugh. These people, It really is astonishing how they see nothing at all wrong with sitting by whilst 23 children die at their hands each year and then glorifying their murderer, who is still but a child. It makes you wonder, would they react the same should the tributes be chosen from the Capitol? My guess is definitely not.  
Once I've finished getting myself presentable I head into the main carriage, where we were before and see Chaim slung lazily over one of the large red couches. He sits up to attention when I enter: "Nice sleep? I couldn't get a wink, I think I'm travel sick" he states sheepishly, rubbing his stomach in jest. I roll my eyes and give a small nod in recognition to what he said, I like Chaim, I feel we could be good friends if it weren't for this cruel twist of fate, but I can't allow myself to make friends, that would put me in a vulnerable situation, people who trust easily do foolish things. For all I know, this could be some big plot to gain my trust and destroy me from the inside outwards. But there is something about his crooked smile so genuine that leads me to believe he really is trying to be my friend. It didn't change our circumstances though, so it wouldn't change my decision.  
Before long, our whole team; Myself, Chaim, Saphira, Mags and Gabe sit down at the same breakfast table we sat at the previous night, tucking into ham and eggs like there is no tomorrow, Well, there wasn't much after tomorrow for me anyway, It had a strange but delicious taste, always making my mouth crave for more. Suddenly, a beam of light shines through the train cart window, reflecting off one of the silver platters into our faces, that's when I stand to the window, looking out to the Capitol..I couldn't believe it's grandeur, It was at least twice the size of District Four, with high-rise buildings climbing into the heavens and colors that seemed artificially created. It was magnificent. Which made me hate it all the more. They danced around in their candy colored buildings, frivolously throwing their cash around whilst the districts mourned their children and scrimped and scraped for basic meals. Hate isn't a strong enough word. As our train enters the Capitol, its wheels screech a deafening cry against the metallic tracks, pulling up into a station crawling with people who held the same wacky appearance as Saphira and Caesar Flickerman, the Games never-changing host. They scream and wail at the mere sight of us, chanting our names and our district like they actually care about us, like they're not rooting for other tributes when they stab a dagger through our hearts or send an arrow hurtling into our skulls. And I realise a terrifying fact, that stares me right in the face.  
This is just the beginning.


End file.
